Archon's Dream
by GorimJr
Summary: Three years after the Lucien's Fall, strange happenings are occurring in Albion. Lady Grey has taken over Bowerstone, and the Court of Blades is once again a threat. It's up to a weary Sparrow, his comrades and his long lost sister to make things right.
1. Chapter 1

**This is finally getting started, and it's quite different from what it was before. This was actually very easy to write; usually I have to fight for this kind of chapter length. 3 pages is usually my limit, but this is 5 pages, or there abouts. Considerably better than usual.**

Originally, the Sparrow of this story was a tomboyish woman, but after sitting in my head for awhile, Sparrow became a rather Lupin-y acting man. Lupin is my favorite character in Harry Potter, and when I imagine Sparrow talking, I hear David Thewlis.

A chapter going this fast is usually a good omen. I hope I can keep this up.

The sun beat down on Bowerstone, and the residents were steaming. The once lively place was now slowing under the unbearable heat; children didn't play in the streets; parents moved as little as possible. Vegetables spoiled in the heat, cheese smelled horrific and beer became too hot to drink. It hadn't rained in weeks, and the residents of Bowerstone were beginning to worry.

A few miles away from the town, in the region of Bower Lake, in the forest just off the trail to the Gypsy Camp, on the porch of a small shack, a man sat in a chair, dying. Or at least, he thought he was.

His light brown hair was matted with sweat, streaked with grey, and tied back into a tail. His young face prematurely lined and pale. He was thin and somewhat sickly looking, though his clothes, however light, hid ropy muscles. A sword that had beautiful rainbow shimmers running up and down it and an ornate crossbow lay close to his chair, and while his position was somewhat awkward and his eyes were closed, his hand occasionally twitched towards his weapons, as though itching to use them.

"In the name of the Light, Blanca," he muttered to his dog, which was lying next to the chair, whining pitifully. The great golden mutt seemed even more miserable than his master, covered as he was in fur. His master flung his arm over his eyes, tired. Even if a Game Master came to collect right now, Sparrow wouldn't be able to get up. He'd just sit and stew. "It's like the world turned into a Samarkandian sauna." The dog barked lazily. "Pity there's not a frost spell I could use."

The man stopped and looked up at sound of footsteps came from down the trail, and with a sigh, Sparrow picked up his crossbow and got it ready.

A rotund man in clashing colors was coming up the trail, looking winded and peeved. Sparrow smirked.

"Hero!" The Game Master gasped. "I know you live here to get away from me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Horace." Sparrow said pleasantly. Horace eyed the crossbow wearily.

"You owe me nearly one hundred thousand gold, Sparrow," the Game Master said.

"Really?" Sparrow asked with benign interest.

"Yes, actually."

"I had no idea. Unfortunately, I'm not really in a position to pay you back right now."

"And when _will_ you be in a position to pay me back?" The Game Master asked angrily.

"I don't know." Sparrow said. "I honestly thought that saving the world was sufficient to pay off debts."

"It most certainly is not!" Horace snapped. "Not when you owe nearly-"

"One hundred thousand gold, yes, yes." Sparrow said wearily. "Unfortunately," he loaded his crossbow. "You're trespassing."

"What?" Horace asked blankly.

"Horace, we're friends, right? Good friends?"

"I suppose so, Sparrow," the man said cautiously.

"Then you know just how devastated I'd be if I had to shoot one of these bolts through your head." Sparrow said, taking aim. Horace ran down the path and out of sight.

Sparrow chuckled and scratched Blanca behind the ear. "I sure hope he doesn't get heat stroke. He's a good fellow."

Again, the clomping of feet on the ground found the Hero's ears, but these weren't the footsteps of a debt collector. This was probably a dozen armored feet, tromping in unison.

Sparrow stood slowly, crossbow at the ready, and a low growl came from Blanca as the dog rose onto four legs.

Guards wearing grey suits emerged from the hill, armed to the teeth and quite menacing. They reminded Sparrow vaguely of the Spire guards he'd fought a few years ago, before the fall of Lucien; they had the same distantly dangerous look about them.

"Hello, Sirs," Sparrow said lightly, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not meaning to be rude, but would you mind telling me why you're here?"

"Lady Grey requires your presence, Hero." The leader of the troop drawled.

"Really? And why does Lady Grey have the authority to command such a heavily armed troop to bring in an old Hero like me?" Sparrow asked, his voice still light, but dread sinking into his bones. He remembered helping the grave digger named Victor bring back the one called Lady Grey, and feeling as though he'd made a mistake. That feeling was coming back.

"The mayor of Bowerstone commands all guards in the city with absolute authority," the guard said. "Including us, the Grey Force."

"The Grey Force?" Sparrow repeated. "That's a bit kitschy, isn't it? Overly dramatic?"

"Sir, Lady Grey requires your presence," the guard said again. "Will you be coming peacefully, or will we have to bring you in by force?" Sparrow thought about it for a moment.

"Can I bring my sword?" He asked.

"No weapons," the guard said immediately. "It's regulations. No exceptions."

Sparrow had figured, and luckily he had another trick up his sleeve. "Of course. I'll just put these in a safe place then."

--

As he walked into Bowerstone flanked by guards, Sparrow got the strange impression that he was in trouble.

People were looking at him with fear, though whether it was fear of him or for him was another matter all together. As they walked towards Fairfax Gardens, the guards squeezed around him tighter, and Sparrow thought he saw, in the crowd, a very familiar woman, with red and white gypsy clothing, glowing blue eyes, and a thin smile. His jaw dropped slightly and her thin smile widened, and she waved a little.

Sparrow was hustled down the street as he tried to absorb what he was sure was some sort of freakish hallucination.

A few minutes later, they walked up the cobbled street, past the powered residents and towards the graceful spires of Fairfax Castle. The guards strode down the beautiful, rich halls to the throne room, Sparrow in tow.

Sitting at the throne was a lush woman with long blonde hair and a purple silk dress that fell on her curves tantalizingly. He knew her face was beautiful, but if he hadn't seen her before, in the basement of the Cemetery Mansion, he wouldn't have known. Now, a strange mask that was covered with intricately penned swirls and whorls, the features of the mask as beautiful as Lady Grey's true face, but colder, and crueler obscured her face. The eyes that were visible from through the eyeholes of the mask were just as strange; not Lady Grey's eyes at all. They were burning red, and they flickered like a fire with tongues of blue.

"Hello, Hero," she said. Her voice was strangely accented, and it had a certain coldness that was hidden by a unusual, false sweetness. "It's such an honor to meet you at last."

"Bow to the Queen," the guard growled.

"'Queen'?" Sparrow asked pleasantly. "I thought your title was 'Mayor'."

"Titles mean little to me," Lady Grey said. "Either is fine."

"I must admit, Lady Grey, your appearance surprises me," Sparrow said lightly. "I don't recall seeing that mask last time I saw you."

"I acquired it very recently," Lady Grey said nonchalantly. "It's of little consequence." She began playing with a lock of golden hair. "I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here."

"Why, yes, actually," the hero said.

"Well, you see," she turned to him and her eyes flared. "I need your help with something. Just a little thing."

"Oh? What, may I ask?"

"My friends, well, _brothers_ would be a more accurate term, are stuck in a rather inconvenient place." She examined her nails. "I need you to help me get them out."

"And how could I be of assistance?" Sparrow asked.

"Well, the gate, for lack of better word, can only be opened by a specific bloodline."

"The bloodline of the Archons."

"Exactly!" Lady Grey said happily. "You know your history?"

"I do, Queen of Blades." Sparrow said coldly. The swords of the guards were all suddenly at his throat, the whole dozen of them, and the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Lightning crackled faintly around Sparrow's hands, but no one seemed to notice.

The Queen didn't seem at all abashed. She merely surveyed the man with her strange, glowing eyes.

"Then you know who I'm talking about?"

"The Knight of Blades? And the Jack of Blades."

"Yes." She said softly.

"And I assume you have some petty reason for trying to bring them back? World destruction? Revenge?"

"Something like that, yes." The Queen said, sounding somewhat amused. "More revenge, actually. World destruction was just a fortunate by-product."

"For you," Sparrow pointed out, and the Queen laughed, the sound a horrific cross of sensual and terrifying. More than a little like her.

"So, will you help me?"

"I think you know the answer."

"Yes… Unfortunately." The Queen sighed in an impressive show of regret. "Pity. You're adorable; it would have been nice to be friends."

"No danger of that, ma'am," Sparrow said.

"So polite. You'll make a lovely vessel for Jack." And she ended their meeting with that note, making a fluid motion with her arm, and the guards dragged him away, towards the Demon Door's room.

**Please read and review. Leave your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

**No reviews yet, but these are going really smoothly. I'm impressed with myself.**

Sparrow sat in the dimly lit room, the fire in his hands crackling and sending shadows spiriting across the wall. The flowers around him and the firelight made things seem peaceful, but he was a prisoner, no doubt about it.

"I'm not going to open for you, you know," the Demon Door said snootily.

"And sad as that makes me, I have more important things to worry about right now," Sparrow said. "I need to figure out how to get out of here."

"Oh, do you? Why not just use the door?"

"Well, for one thing, the only way to open it is to bust it open, and Will-"

"Is one of the most powerful substances in existence? Could defeat an army with the proper user behind it?"

"Can only go so far against the Queen of Blades." Sparrow finished quietly.

"Ah, the Queen," the Demon Door said somewhat dreamily. "I've never seen her, but I've heard she only chooses the most beautiful to be her host."

"She's only been in Albion twice." Sparrow said, somewhat amused.

"Still." Sparrow smiled slightly, then remembered something.

"Hey, the last time I was here and tried to open you, you said something about Jack of Blades."

"Oh yes," the Demon Door said haughtily. "Jack of Blades tried to open me, before his dragon phase. That's what I said."

"What was he like?" Sparrow asked, turning to look at the Door with interest.

"What was he like?" The Demon Door repeated blankly.

"Yes. Was he powerful? How did he act?"

"Of course he was powerful!" The Demon Door snapped. "He's probably the most powerful of the three! 'Was he powerful'. Haven't you heard of the Hero of Oakvale?"

"Of course," Sparrow said innocently. "But those stores are sometimes a bit false."

"How so?" The Demon Door asked, offended.

"Well, the book about the Hero of Oakvale says that he wielded the Sword of Aeons."

"So he did. How's that false."

"To use it, he'd have had to kill his sister. But his sister is still alive."

The Demon Door laughing boomingly. "The Seer Theresa? Still alive? Foolish boy! Not even a hero of her caliber could live this long!"

"You'll see," Sparrow said with a smile, then sat down and waited. He had a feeling.

The fire in his hand began to die in his hand as time stretched on. The Demon Door began to snore, and Sparrow's head was falling forward dangerously.

The fire died, and Sparrow snored softly. The Demon Door melted back into the wall, and the peace, though superficial, was calming.

A bright, white pillar of light appeared, and then, standing in the grass, was a tall, thin woman in red and white robes, with grey skin and glowing blue eyes. Sparrow's eyes opened, and he smiled up at his guardian.

"I thought we weren't going to see each other again."

"The future took a different turn than I expected," Theresa said fondly. "I'm afraid you're going to have to take my had a few more times, my friend." Sparrow laughed.

"Well, can we get my stuff first? Blanca's probably sick with worry right now."

"Of course." Theresa held out her hand and Sparrow took it without hesitation.

They arrived at his shack in the dry, hot night, stars twinkling overhead, and the huge moon beaming down.

"How charming," Theresa said blandly. Sparrow flashed her a swift smile.

"I like my privacy," he said. At the sound of his master's voice, Blanca came bounding out of the houses and tackled Sparrow, licking his face wildly.

"Obviously," Theresa said. She waited patiently as Sparrow grabbed his weapons and Blanca came to sit by her. "How has he been?" She asked the dog. The dog barked in a decidedly content tone. "Interesting."

"Ready," Sparrow said. "Took awhile to find that last health potion. You never know you need it until you get cornered by a pack of balvarines."

Theresa held out her hand, but this time, Sparrow didn't take it immediately. "Just out of curiosity, where are we going now?"

"To find Hammer," Theresa said calmly. "And then to Reaver and Garth. Once you're all together, I'll explain in full. I don't want to repeat myself too much."

"Right. Well, could you tell me?" He asked hopefully. Theresa smiled.

"Right now, we need to get out of here, Sparrow. No doubt the Queen knows of your escape. We'll have a bit of time before we meet Hammer. I'll explain on the way." Sparrow nodded and took her hand.

A brief flash of light later, and he heard Theresa say, "Oh dear…"

They were standing on a muddy slope, in a soft drizzle of icy water, surrounded by pine trees. The place was a bit cooler than Bowerstone, but not much, and it was certainly more humid.

"The effects of them are this far north?" Theresa muttered.

"Theresa? Where are we?" Sparrow asked. Blanca sniffed about at the trees and mud, pawing wetly away up the slope.

"Hook Coast. Where Hammer is. And now, I will explain this. But we must be fast." And so they began to trudge up the slope, and Theresa spoke.

"The love spell the gravekeeper put upon the resurrected Lady Grey wore off. The man is now dead, and while you were hiding from debt collectors, Lady Grey quietly took over Bowerstone." Sparrow wasn't sure if he'd heard a bit of disappointment in her voice, but just the possibility of it made him cringe.

"But how did the Queen take her over?"

"The mask of the Queen had been found by Lucien in his attempts to recreate the Spire," Theresa said. "Lady Grey found it, and the Queen considered her a suitable host. And now, she attempts to bring back her brothers, both of whom are locked in the void."

"And she has to use my blood to do so?"

"No. She could use your sister's." Theresa said, and Sparrow felt his blood run cold. After making the Choice of Love, he'd only gotten one mysterious letter from Rose, describing a strange fellow who was taking care of her, and being in a strange place full of trees. For two years, he'd searched for that place, but he'd had no luck. Only recently had he settled down and tried to rest. The journey hadn't been good for his health, on top of past experiences.

"But Rose is safe, Sparrow. Actually, she's probably more safe than you." Sparrow felt relief, then confusion.

"What do you mean, safer than me? Where is she? Who's she with?"

"You'll see in time. Anyway, the heat is a side-effect of the presence of the Queen. Once Albion is rid of her, the heat will pass."

"But until then, we're just going to stew?"

"Yes. Ah, here we are." They'd reached the top of the slope, and at the top was a large building. It was obviously not made to be surround by mud, and appeared to be sinking into the muck.

But the precariousness of the building wasn't what Sparrow was focusing on. Standing outside, next to the large double doors, was a red-headed woman with a very large hammer, wearing grey and white clothing. She turned, saw them, and grinned.

"I knew it!" She ran over to them through the muck and wrapped her muscular arms around Theresa, practically picking the reedy woman off her slippered feet. The look of shock on the old woman's face made Sparrow laugh, and Hammer turned to him, beaming. The smile faltered slightly.

"Wow, Sparrow. You don't so good," she said worriedly. "You're too thin. And you're hair!"

"I know, I know," Sparrow said. "But you look great."

She did. She had a kind of healthy glow about her, and was even more svelte than she had been last he'd seen her. Her hair was shorter now; it brushed her shoulders and was straighter. She grinned, heaving her hammer up over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but I can still whoop anyone in my way to next year. I bet you're wondering how I knew you were coming." Sparrow had actually been too focused on the fact that _she _was there than the fact that she was _there_, but that would be embarrassing to admit, so he just nodded. "I had a dream last night. I think I got it from Theresa. It's a bit blurry now, so I can't really tell you about it, but it basically said to be here. I've been sitting out here for ages."

"We need to go get Reaver and Garth," Theresa said as Hammer turned her attention to Blanca, who was obviously happy to see her. "If you would take my hand?"

--

"Oh, by the Light, I'm dying!"

"Reaver, we have to go back to the Northern Wastes! This is insane!"

"No!" The captain snapped, fanning himself with a paper fan. "We're going to Samarkand and that's final!" He turned to his passengers, glaring. "You're lucky I'm so nice, you two. This crew is on the verge of mutiny."

"And we thank you, Reaver," the woman said with a smile. "I don't know what we would have done without you." She tied back her nut-brown hair, thus missing the fact that Reaver's expression softened slightly at her smile.

Her strange companion, however, didn't miss it. His grip on his weapon, a large golden scythe, tightened slightly, and his eyes narrowed beneath the wrapping of cloth that covered his entire body.

The two had been at a body of land Reaver had discovered while searching for a cooler place. After a very strange dream, he'd felt an urge to go west, and stumbled across them. The woman was very pretty, and almost looked like the old pictures of the famous Heroine Briar Rose, except for the huge silver axe she carried. A strange character certainly, but her friend was considerably stranger.

A tall, thin, bandaged man, with a huge golden scythe, rich blue robes, and golden armor, he didn't talk much, but he didn't seem to like Reaver much, regardless of the kindness Reaver'd shown them by allowing them to sail with him and his crew. His whole being reeked of strangeness, and so Reaver's crew stayed away from him.

After a certain amount of persuading, the woman convinced Reaver to give them passage to Samarkand. It had been awhile since Reaver had jumped through such hoops for a woman, but even so, Reaver doubted that anything would happen.

"And why," Reaver continued, ignoring the strange man's warning. "Do you need to go to Samarkand?"

"The same reason you do," the woman said, still smiling. Reaver's eyebrow rose.

"On the contrary, lass, I'm dropping you off and going north as fast as I can."

"No. You're going to stay," the woman said with finality bordering on indifference. Reaver laughed, fanning himself a bit more vigorously.

"And why would I do that, Love?" He asked.

"Because you need to help my brother," the woman said sweetly. The strange man shot her a look, and she stopped talking. Reaver frowned.

"What did you say your name was again, my dear?" He asked, unbuttoning another button in his shirt in an attempt to get cooler. She smiled, her blue eyes shining.

"Rose."

**Dun dun duuuuun.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Still no reviews. (sigh) If you read please review. It makes me feel so nice when I get reviews, and I'm incredibly proud of these. **

The first thing Sparrow felt when he, Hammer, Blanca and Theresa teleported into Samarkand was the oppressive heat. It was worse here than in even Bowerstone, as the usual heat was mixed with the new, supernatural heat caused by the Queen of Blades. It literally hurt to breathe.

After the shock of the heat passed, Sparrow realized that they were standing in the extremely bright sun, at a dock in Samarkand. At one side, there was the docks, which was full of ships from all corners of the world, bringing in remarkable goods. To the other side, there was an enormous market, filled with stalls and people boasting wares.

Sparrow glanced at Theresa and saw that she looked rather miserable. In this heat, one certainly wouldn't wear such heavy garments. Hammer was already dripping with sweat and Blanca whined pitifully.

"Follow me, all of you," Theresa said, and they went through the bazaar quickly. As they passed, people looked at them with fear and anxiousness.

"I get the feeling they don't trust us," Hammer said dryly.

"Samarkand is an isolated country," Sparrow said. "They don't get many outsiders."

"Reaver must have been a hoot." Hammer joked, and Sparrow grinned.

"Without a doubt."

As they continued up through the market, a great building came into view. It was made of stone and loomed over everything. It was easily the largest building in the city.

"Garth is in there. The Great Library, which holds the knowledge of the entire world in its rooms."

"Sounds like the perfect place for Garth," Sparrow mused as they approached the great double doors.

Inside, the place was dark and smelled musty and thick. It was cramped and crammed with dark bookshelves filled with every type of book. Some were thick and bound with leather stamped with runes, others were bound with huge leaves. Some were mere scrolls tied with ribbons, and still more were sheaves of parchment rolled together.

There weren't many people in there, and everyone in the vicinity looked up when they entered. They nodded respectfully to Theresa and continued reading.

They walked through the cramped walls of dusty tomes to the very back of the place, where there was a plain wall with a small alcove. In the alcove was a glowing red flit switch.

Lightning crackled around Sparrow's hand, and he hit the flit switch with a burst of electricity. Next to the alcove, the wall shifted backward and sideways, revealing a spiral staircase.

Theresa led them up the seemingly endless staircase, the wall shifting shut behind them as they went. After a great deal of going up the staircase in complete darkness, Theresa opened a door and they entered the threshold.

The room was amazing. The ceiling was a huge stained glass dome of the night sky on one half and a sunrise on the other. The room was a perfect circle, and the walls were lined with even more bookshelves, and each bookshelf was neatly full of books. From where he was standing, Sparrow could see that most of these were about Will, or the Old Kingdom. He saw one of his favorites, the Hero of Oakvale, and the book written about Lucien, and even by Lucien.

Under the stained glass sun was a desk with a candle, and the desk was covered with papers that were written on in a slanted, hasty sort of way. The room was, other than that, empty of life, though there was one door off to the side, and it was slightly ajar.

Theresa stood silently, like a statue, and Sparrow shared a glance with Hammer.

The door opened and a tall, dark skinned, white haired man covered in blue Will scars stepped out, wearing long, blue and white scholars robes, tongues of fire writhing around his hands, one hand raised and ready.

He faltered when he saw who it was, and frowned at Theresa. "I had a dream… It told me to be ready."

"That was from me, Garth," Theresa said gently. "We need your help once more." Garth frowned deeper, but nodded and lowered his arm.

His eyes landed on Sparrow, and he smiled. "Hello, my friend." He glanced at Hammer. "Barbarian."

"Your Brilliance." Hammer shot back, bowing sarcastically, and they both grinned.

"It's good to see you both. I suppose Reaver will be showing up soon?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. We should be ready to meet him at the docks. He's bringing two very important people with him. But take your time; it will be awhile yet." And with that, Theresa turned on her heel and started back down the stairs.

"Good to see you too," Garth muttered, and Sparrow laughed.

"She's not the social type," he said. Garth smiled at him, but looked rather concerned.

"You're looking tired, Sparrow. Older."

"The years pile up. You of all people should know how that is." Sparrow said.

"That I do," Garth said solemnly.

"This place is amazing, Garth," Hammer said with wonder, browsing around at the books.

"It is, isn't it?" Garth said, looking at the place with fondness. "The scholars are allowing me to use it, mainly because I'm the only one able to open the door." He shrugged. "Besides you, Sparrow."

"Of course. You've got quite a collection, Garth," the younger Hero said, plucking a book about Will off the shelf and flipping through it without invitation. The whole thing was entirely too complicated for the self-taught Will User.

"I've collected quite a few over the years I've been here, though most of these are from my Tower in Brightwood." Garth said. "I've been researching the Old Kingdom and perfecting my use of Will for the last few years. And what have you two been doing with this time?"

"I've been doing some thinking," Hammer said, still looking at the books. "Training with the warrior monks. They're good people, and I've had fun. What about you, Sparrow?"

Sparrow was silent for a moment, and then said, "I've been looking for Rose,. mostly. And letting debt pile up. Recently I took a break; got a really out-of-the-way place to stay."

"Sounds like fun," Hammer joked.

"You have no idea," Sparrow said with a twisted smile. "The Hero of Bowerstone, reduced to dodging debt collectors and living in a shack. Priceless."

There was a tense silence as Garth watched Sparrow sympathetically and Hammer looked stunned.

"Sorry…" Hammer stammered, and Sparrow turned to her, looking a bit surprised. He realized that he sounded bitter, and smiled more warmly.

"Nah, it's fine." He assured her.

"We'd best not keep Theresa waiting. Explain on the way down to the docks just what is happening." Garth said.

--

Theresa was waiting for them down at the docks, next to an enormous ship with massive sails and a crew staggering off, obviously suffering in the heat.

"Why, if it isn't the lovely Sparrow!" Reaver said, fanning himself as he walked down the gangplank, his shirt half unbuttoned, his hair usually shapeless and lank in the heat.

"I'm not gay, Reaver, so back off." Sparrow snapped.

"Well, that doesn't mean you're not lovely, does it?" Reaver asked slyly. "Though," he looked at him frankly. "You are looking a bit sickly, dear fellow. Is that grey I see in your hair? Are you sure you didn't keep the seal?"

"Absolutely." Sparrow snapped. "Look, Theresa said you were bringing some people. Who are they?"

"Oh, they're lovely people; so _cheerful_ and _talkative,_" Reaver said sarcastically. "Just a whoot to be with. Well," he grinned. "The lady is. Her friend, not so much."

"Woman? Friend?" Garth asked interestedly. "Where did you find them?"

"The Northern Waste region. Just on the beach, like they were waiting or something." He frowned. "I'll never understand Northerners." Garth chuckled.

"Who are they?" Hammer asked.

"Little Sparrow?!" Sparrow froze, scarcely daring to believe it. At the look on Sparrow's face, Reaver raised an eyebrow. Sparrow turned towards the gangplank, his eyes filling with tears.

"Rose?" A tall, brown-haired woman stumbled down the gangplank, somewhat encumbered by a large, slivery axe strapped to her back. She wore brown pants and a black shirt, and a strangely familiar-looking, deep red, hooded tattered coat that fluttered around her leather boots.

So different now, but he knew it was her, the same way she knew it was him. She ran forward and jumped into his arms. He lifted her off her feet and whirled her around, past Reaver, who looked a bit shocked. They hugged one another, laughing and crying. Theresa smiled as a strange, tall, thin man with a wickedly curved scythe, decked out in deep blue robes and very heavily bandaged.

"Theresa." He said in a deep, booming voice, nodding. Theresa nodded back.

"Scythe." She said, in the same respectful tone.

Hammer smiled as she watched Sparrow and Rose hug each other, crying and laughing, then turned to Reaver.

"You reunited them," she said with a smile. Sparrow turned, tears still falling.

"Don't ruin this for me, Hammer!" He snapped, sending the woman into gales of laughter. Reaver smirked.

"So, this lovely young woman is your sister, Sparrow?" He asked. Sparrow turned to him, letting Rose go, glaring at the younger-looking, but infinitely older man.

"If you try to do anything to her, with your charm and personality and handsomeness-"

"I have charm and personality and handsomeness?" Reaver asked, innocently blank. Sparrow stared at him, at a loss for words, and glared. "Oh, witty come back."

"Shut up."

"Now then," Reaver said, running a hand through his hair. "My crew and I will be heading back up north." The announcement was met with cheers from his crew, and as he waved like royalty to his subjects, Theresa said, "No you're not."

There was a stunned silence from the crew, who had no idea who Theresa was, and from Reaver, who obviously hadn't been defied in recent memory.

"Excuse me?" The sharpshooter asked, and stunned, confused smile on his face.

"You will be taking us to Bloodstone. Once there, you will accompany us to Wraithmarsh, to the Halls of Shadow. I sense a darkness brewing there that is beyond the norm."

"Theresa, I've been there. Everything there is dark beyond the norm." Sparrow said. "I'm in no hurry to return."

"Yet return you must, as must we all." Scythe said in his deep voice. "To stop the Queen of Blades."

"Sorry, but that has nothing to do with me," Reaver said blithely.

"It has everything to do with you, Reaver. Or have you forgotten?" Theresa said. Hammer, Garth, Sparrow and Rose watched Reaver stare at Theresa as though he'd never seen anything quite like her.

"Excuse me?" He asked quietly.

"300 years ago, you summoned a dark thing from the other side, to gain the knowledge needed to summon the King of Shadows. The thing stated that you now owed it. Do you know who or what that was?" Her strange blue eyes caught Reaver's gold ones. "That was the Knight of Blades. And the Queen hopes to bring the Knight and Jack out from the void. How much would you wager that he'll cash in his favor in an effort to gain a host body?"

Reaver absorbed this information as he stared at Theresa. After a moment or two, he said, "Crew, we're going to Bloodstone." The crew groaned. "No whining. Get ready to set sail."

Rose smiled and touched his arm. "Thank you very, very much. We all really appreciate it. Right everyone?"

"Right," Sparrow said suspiciously.

"Sure," Hammer said, looking confused.

"Undoubtedly," Garth assured her.

"Thank you, Dear. That makes me feel so much better," Reaver said, almost sarcastically, but not quite.

"So, you're 300 years old?" Rose asked as the boarded the ship, Sparrow stalking close behind.

"Yes." Reaver said shortly, but, not surprisingly, offered no further explanation.

"You're remarkably well-preserved for a 300 year old," Rose said, undaunted. A smile quirked on Reaver's mouth, and Sparrow's eyes narrowed.

"I know. But these things always have strings attached to them."


	4. Chapter 4

**Liesie: You're my first reviewer! :D You have no idea how rewarding it was for me to open my email and find 5 new messages, 3 of which were reviews! It made me so happy; made my day, you did! I have half a mind to dedicate this chapter to you.**

** I too like banter in my stories. Sarcasm and witty comebacks. Lady Grey was always an awesome evil chick in my opinion, and she's pretty, so the Queen would love her. XD There's something else I'm going to put in later with Lady Grey. You'll see. X3 Plus, I'll get to do something I've always wanted to do next chapter. You'll see. D**

**Continue to grace me with your reviews! So far, you're the only one. (cries) **

Sparrow leaned over the ship's rail and threw up. Reaver, who had been standing next to him, leaning against the same rail, looked away, looking disgusted and amused.

"It takes awhile to get used to the sea," he said over Sparrow's retching. "How many times have you been on a ship?" Sparrow weakly held up two fingers. "Two? Just two?"

"The Spire ride was awful," the younger hero said, watching the water churn beneath him. "So I try to stay on land." He turned to Theresa, who was sitting in a chair next to the opposite rail, looking remarkably serene. "Why couldn't we just zap there?!"

"For one thing, that would probably startle the people of Bloodstone," the gypsy woman said. "And everything needs to be perfect. We can't get there too early or too late, and Reaver's ship will do nicely."

"How are you doing, Sparrow?" Rose said as she approached, patting her younger brother on the back. "You look a bit sickly."

"He always looks a bit sickly," Reaver warned. "If you're going by that, you'll be worried your whole life." Sparrow glared at him, but Rose grinned after she made sure Sparrow wasn't looking.

Since the voyage had began, Reaver and Rose had been shown themselves as budding friends. Sparrow had no idea what his sister saw in him (He assumed Reaver only liked her because she had breasts), but when he tried to tell her what he was like, she blew him off.

"He really is nice, Sparrow. You should give him a chance; he's actually very sweet," she said after one such conversation. Sparrow stared at her.

"Are we talking about the same person?" He asked blankly. Rose stomped off, leaving her brother to wonder just what was going on.

Now, over him, they were grinning at each other. Sparrow reached out and grabbed the collar of Reaver's shirt, pulling him down so their faces were level.

"Reaver, stop flirting with my sister," he snarled so Rose couldn't hear.

"I'm not!" Reaver protested. "What, I can't have friends?"

"You don't have friends!" Sparrow hissed. "You have fuck buddies!" The corners of Reaver's mouth twitched, but he really couldn't deny that. "Look, you. I may be down, but I'm not ou-" He stopped, clapping a hand to his mouth. Reaver managed to get out of the way, but Sparrow still managed to vomit on his shoes.

There was a long silence as Sparrow straightened, grinned apologetically, then leaned back against the rail. Reaver looked as though he was about to throttle him, but took a deep breath, snarled some curses, and stomped off, leaving Sparrow to laugh over the railing until Rose smacked him upside the head to shut him up.

--

Waves lapped the side of the ship as stars twinkled overhead, and the moon shone down on the near-deserted deck like a spotlight. Below deck, the crew baked in the galley, trying to eat the food in front of them. Up on deck, the Heroes, sans Reaver, all sat together, talking, Garth, Sparrow and Rose sitting cross legged on the deck and Theresa and Scythe sitting on chairs with them, all next to the mast.

"Garth, were you around when Lucien found the Queen's mask?"

"I seem to recall it…" Garth said slowly. "I think we'd been working with the Archeologist called Belle. She'd found an old tomb that had been sealed so well that it took us weeks to pry it open-"

"And that didn't warn you?" Scythe asked. Garth hesitated.

"I was against it. I felt as though it should never be opened; like something horrific was in there."

"That was your Heroic blood warning you," Theresa said, sipping her tea. "All Heroes are distantly related, descended in one way or another by William Black, the first Archon. Some, like you, Sparrow, and you, Rose, are more directly descended, and thus have dominion over all three Heroic virtues. That's extremely rare among Heroes." Sparrow shrugged humbly.

"When we opened it," Garth continued. "All that was in there was small table in the center with something like a jewelry box on it. Inside there was the mask and a letter."

"A letter? What did it say?" Scythe asked.

"As I recall… 'Beware, mortal, for if ye possess great beauty, your very soul hangs on this note. The mask of the Dark Ruler will give ye power, but at the cost of your life. Leave this place, and bother with her darkness no more.'"

"Well, that explains why she didn't take Lucien over," Sparrow mused. Garth looked at him questioningly. "Well, Lucien was hardly a handsome guy."

"Did he try to put it on?" Rose asked nervously.

"A few times, foolishly," the old wizard said. "As you said, the Queen is picky. He wasn't worthy of being her host body."

"How did the mask get there?" Hammer asked.

"A great while ago, before even that Reaver's birth, the Hero of Oakvale fought Jack of Blades in the Chamber of Fate," Scythe said, absent-mindedly sharpening his scythe. "After a long battle, the Hero destroyed Jack's body and kept his mask as a trophy. Regardless of what most say, he threw the Sword of Aeons into the Void, forsaking power for the sake of family." Theresa looked a bit too calm as she listened, and Sparrow felt a knot of suspicion settle in his stomach. "However, Jack had been carrying mementos of his family. The masks of the Queen and the Knight were on his belt. The mask of the Knight was thrown back into the Void with the Sword, but the Void closed before the Queen could be thrown in."

"You'd think the Queen would be the first to go in," Hammer mused.

"The Hero of Oakvale had strange priorities," Theresa said dryly.

"You knew the Hero of Oakvale?" Garth asked.

"Oh yes, we were quite close." Theresa said airily. "Anyway, after the Void closed, the Hero took the Queen's mask to the most out of reach place, where he figured no one would go."

"Where?" Rose asked.

"Darkwood. What is now known as the outskirts of Wraithmarsh." Theresa answered.

"Ah, that would be a good place to hid something," Garth agreed. Sparrow nodded.

"What's Wraithmarsh like?" Rose asked.

"It's very dark, and cold, and foggy," Sparrow answered. "And there's water up to your ankles, and remnants of old houses strewn across the area. There are banshees that rise up and scream your darkest thoughts at you, and skeletons that claw out of the ground, possessed by the angry souls of the dead."

"That sounds horrible!"

"It is," Theresa said sadly. "And that's when Reaver's not there."

"What does Reaver have to do with it?" Rose asked.

"He's the reason they can't move on," Theresa explained. "He unknowingly bargained the souls of Oakvale, his hometown, for eternal life and youth." As Rose absorbed this. Reaver strode up.

"We'll be there tomorrow," he said, sitting next to Rose confidently, ignoring Sparrow's glare. "You all best get below deck and get some sleep before we get there."

"How thoughtful of you," Hammer said, reaching over and clapping Reaver on the back brightly, nearly knocking the smaller man over onto the deck. Sparrow got up and followed Garth and Hammer down into the cabins, but not before shooting Reaver a suspicious look. Theresa and Scythe got up and walked over away from Reaver and Rose, neither of whom had moved.

"Aren't you going to bed?" Reaver asked once the two old Heroes were out of earshot.

"I have a question." Rose said quietly. Reaver glanced at her.

"Ask away."

"What was Oakvale like before it was destroyed?" That wasn't really the question she'd been planning to ask, but it slipped out before she could stop it. Reaver tensed, not meeting her gaze.

"Why do you ask?" He asked in an impressive imitation of calm.

"I was curious. And I know you used to live there." Reaver bit the inside of his cheek.

"It… was small. Friendly. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone," he said reluctantly. "It was by the sea, but since it was a town, there was no harbor. Just a beach. And there was a school, with Miss Ursula, and she taught the children. I lived in the house where the Hero of Oakvale used to live; at the top of a hill."

"And you had family there?" Rose asked impulsively. Reaver sighed.

"Yes. My family had lived there since the bandit raid. I had a sister, older, and a younger brother. Or rather, he did." Rose looked at him questioningly. "That was a different man."

"I see." Rose said. "What was that man's name?" Reaver glanced at her.

"Aroon."

Rose smiled. "I think it's time we both got to bed."

"Yes," Reaver said with a nod, obviously glad to be rid of the conversation. "You're quite right." He and Rose got up, and, spur of the moment, she kissed his cheek.

"Thanks," she said softly. "See you in the morning." And with that, she left him to stare after her, mouth agape, his cheek burning where her lips had touched it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Reviews are love.**

**Liesie: XD Oh, that's funny! "Glowy blue scars". Yeah, you'd think that'd be a tip off that he's a Will User. And yes, that was Sparrow's unintentional revenge. Kind of. Not really.**

**Neo-Kira: Maybe. You'll see. It depends.**

Sparrow was ecstatic when they made port into Bloodstone. In a sudden burst of energy unprecedented in the heat, he shoved past Reaver and jumped up and down like a child on the sand, running into the tavern.

"Sparrow! We have to be somewhere!" Rose called after him. Hammer ran past her.

"I like the way he thinks!" She said, running after him. Rose shook her head and turned to Garth, who was grinning.

"How anyone can voluntarily run into a place called 'The Leper's Arm' is beyond me," she said. Garth laughed.

"It doesn't hurt to have some food and drink in you before you go off into a dangerous place," he reasoned. Rose shrugged as Reaver walked up, his hair still lank and listless, despite many failed attempts to shape it into his usual style.

"It might actually make things easier," the captain said. "No one in their right mind would go into Wraithmarsh. A few drinks might make it easier."

"Easier to get killed!" Rose objected. "You'd hardly be able to shoot something if you're seeing double."

"You'd be surprised," Reaver said with a grin, and Rose smacked him upside the head. "Kidding. Just kidding."

"I'm going to go get them," Rose said. "Drinking before a battle… shame on them."

Scythe and Theresa strode down the gangplank.

"She can't abide drunks," Scythe warned Reaver. "So you may want to work on that." Garth sniggered as Reaver whirled on the two older Heroes, glaring.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped.

"Certainly," Theresa said with a nod. Reaver seemed to want to say more, but at that point, Rose came out, dragging Sparrow and Hammer out by their ears.

"We didn't even get a drink," Sparrow said angrily to Garth and Reaver. "Not one."

"How're we supposed to fight banshees if we're not a bit tipsy?" Hammer snapped at Rose. "It's impossible!"

"Well, you'll just have to make do," the taller woman said coolly. "Come on. Let's go."

She headed off towards Wraithmarsh, with the other six Heroes following close behind her.

Wraithmarsh was exactly as Sparrow remembered, but also slightly different. It had the same eerie look about it, the same thick, gross water and fog in it, and the same broken down houses and spooky remanents of Oakvale. But…

"Nothing's attacking," Sparrow said after they were about half-way to the Shadow Court. "I'd have had to fight through a battalion of hollowmen and a few banshees to get this far."

"Yes… I think it's because we have Reaver." Theresa said. Reaver had been extremely quiet throughout the journey, accepting help and words only from Rose, which Sparrow found a mite unsettling. The man's hand constantly twitched to his gun, and if anyone looked at him for too long, he'd glare furiously until they looked away.

At the mention of him possibly being the cause of this apparent free pass, he looked startled.

"Me?" Was all he seemed able to say.

"If I was the angry spirits of a town he demolished for youth, I'd be pretty keen on ripping his head off," Hammer said a bit heartlessly. "But that's just me."

They walked through the muck and into a circle of houses with a well in the middle, the air thick with fog.

"We missed it," Reaver said.

"Well, why didn't you tell us before?"

"It's right behind us; no need to fret."

"Good. You should tell us these things before-" Suddenly, the fog became thicker, and Rose gasped, pointing wildly behind Sparrow. Sparrow turned, drawing his pistol, then stopped, shocked.

It wasn't a banshee. At least, he didn't think it was. It looked like a ghostly woman, her head in her hands, sobbing. She wasn't wearing the robes of a banshee, but the normal clothing of a farmer's wife. Her long, brown hair was lank and wet, and she looked pale and slightly swollen, as if she'd drowned.

Sparrow faltered, unsure of what to do; this didn't seem to be a banshee. Then, there was a shriek, and he turned.

Rose was stomping at wet, pale, clammy hands pawing at her from the ground, and Reaver was shooting at ones reaching for him. Garth shot lightning, fire, and blades of light at the ones surrounding him and Hammer, who was crushing dozens at a time with her enormous stone hammer.

Sparrow took out his sword, ready to slice at any who came his way, but before he could, wet, cold arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him downward. He heard Rose scream his name before being dragged backwards into the marsh water.

After the shock of the cold water passed, he realized that he was being dragged deeper than how deep the water truly was. Though the water had only gone up to the ankle, it was as if he was being dragged into a deep lake. At first, he could feel a dozen cold, slimy arms dragging him down, but then he felt as if he was falling…

He hit the ground with a crack, and lay for a moment, stunned. As he lay there, he realized that where he was was very, very different from where he had been.

He heaved himself into a sitting position and looked around. He was on a dirt road nestled between two wide cliffs. Spanning the cliffs was a roofed bridge, and beyond the bridge was the sound of laughter and talk. The sun was shining down and the trees and their leaves left rippling shadows on the grass.

Sparrow stood, staring. He was in Oakvale.

He stumbled into the town. Cottages like the one in the Homestead lined the circle of grass. In the center was a tree, and at the base of the tree was a well. There was a tavern to the left, flanked by houses, and to the right was a general store, likewise flanked by houses. Children ran through the place, squealing and laughing wildly. Women chatted nearby, keeping an eye on the children throughout the conversation. Men talked about fishing and the trade in Barrow Fields.

It was like jumping through a time warp. As Sparrow walked through the place, he heard singing, pretty singing that reminded him of a deep memory of his and Rose's mother. There were words to it, but they were lost, and it echoed unnaturally through the scene, though no one else seemed to hear it, or if they did, they paid it no mind.

Sparrow followed the sound, and it led him up a steep hill. The top was lined with houses, but one stood out as somewhat larger and more magnificent. It was at the true top of the hill, a place of honor.

Standing outside it was the source of the singing. A small slip of a woman, with a pretty, heart shaped face and waist length brown hair was hanging clothing on a line. She seemed very happy, and was singing shamelessly, her blue eyes shining. Looking closely, Sparrow thought she looked a bit like his sister, only his sister was somewhat more muscular and had shorter hair.

She sang of love between two people, and how if either were unfaithful with the other, the other's heart would be beyond repair. She sang of the joys of their loves, the tender tones and timid sighs. The names of the lovers were Eileen and Aroon. Sparrow realized that she was Eileen.

As she sang, clouds seemed to come in, blocking the cheerful beams of the sun, along with a thick bank of fog. She stopped singing, a look of shock and fear on her face. At the bottom of the hill, Sparrow could hear parents calling for their children to come inside. The fog was deathly cold, and Eileen glanced at her remaining laundry, obviously torn between her need to finish hanging it and her impulse to go inside.

Suddenly, the calls for children to come in became screams of terror. Eileen gasped, dropping her laundry and bolting, trying to run to the bridge.

The dark grey fog surged up the hill, gaining speed. Sparrow drew his weapon and stood between it and the woman, but it made no difference. The fog merely passed by him, harmless.

It engulfed the woman, who was taken with a scream. The entire town had gone from peaceful happiness to a dark circus of screams in a moment.

Sparrow couldn't see through the fog, but he heard a scream that was different from the others. Not a scream of terror, but a scream of grief and regret. He ran towards the sound blindly, and found himself where he'd fallen, beneath the roofed bridge. A young man, younger than Sparrow. He was wearing the same type of clothing Sparrow was, rough and earth-toned. He was sobbing, heart-broken, holding his head in his hands. He seemed strangely familiar, for a reason Sparrow could not place. Then he remembered…

Reaver was the one who sacrificed Oakvale.

This was Reaver.

Sparrow suddenly felt like a big jerk. This didn't seem like the same man who heartlessly sent Sparrow on a fool's errand that he barely got out of. This didn't seem like the same man who'd shot one of Sparrow's oldest, albeit more annoying, friends. This man was hunched over in grief, sobbing like a child. Sparrow felt a pang of pity. Unthinkingly, he reached down to pat Reaver on the shoulder, and was shocked when his hand passed straight through.

_This is a memory._ A woman's voice said, and Eileen appeared, dead and horrific. _One we must suffer through time and time again._

"What can I do?" Sparrow asked implusively. Eileen laughed.

_Nothing. I brought you here so you could understand. Because you do understand! _She looked at him pleadingly. _You know what it's like to relive your worst memory over and over again! I've seen it! The night of your sister's death has haunted you for decades! So it has been for us, for centuries._

"What are you going to do?" Sparrow asked softly.

_The only thing we can do._ She said softly. _As long as he is alive, his contract stands, and we are trapped in a state that is neither life nor death. A wise woman gave us a ritual that will kill him, and it will free us. It will allow us to die._

"You're going to kill him?" Sparrow asked, horrified. "But we need him! To stop the Queen of Blades."

_I'm sorry._ Eileen said. _Farewell._

Sparrow rose from the water, coughing and retching the muck. He was alone in the swamp, and he felt a pang of fear. Where was everyone?

"Where are the others?!" He yelled at the swamp. "Where are the others?!"

The fog parted before him, and he ran through to the great stone doors that lead to the Shadow Court. They were ajar, and the distant sounds and conversation could be heard from within.

Sparrow ran through the rubble-filled halls of the Shadow Court, hearing the Shadow King's deep voice boom.

"Reaver! The time of your sacrifice has come! Enough stalling! Who will it be?"

"Um, well, you see," he heard Reaver stammer. "That wasn't actually why I came."

"Then why is it that you're here, Reaver, with a veritable battalion? Have you come to try and break your contract?" There was a moment of tense silence as Sparrow walked more slowly through the halls, towards the voices.

"Shadow King," Theresa's soft voice said. Was it just Sparrow, or did she sound sad? "We've already lost one to these swamps. Please listen to what I have to say."

"Very well, Theresa, Seer of Twinblade," the Shadow King said, with a tone of startling respect. "Why are you here?"

"I have foreseen a great event occurring here, and so Scythe and I brought the Heroes here, to stop it, if possible. Or to witness it when it occurs. It will happen very soon. I'm sure of it."

"Are you?" The Shadow King asked.

"I am."

"Very well, though it appears you have not been entirely truthful. The so-called "lost" Hero is here." There was a startled silence as Sparrow walked into the room.

The room was the same as it had been. On the other side of the great chamber, past a huge hole in the floor that spanned from one wall to the next, were three shadowy figures with glowing red eyes, standing before three ornate, golden thrones. One the other side, where he was, Hammer and Garth were standing together, Hammer leaning against the much thinner man. Rose and Reaver stood closer to the edge of the pit, Rose apparently there for support, and Theresa and Scythe were standing a somewhat dark corner off to the side.

There was a shocked silence as his companions stared at him. Rose looked as though she'd been crying as she ran over to her brother and leapt into his arms.

"We thought you were dead," she sobbed into his shoulder. "Reaver was telling us to run, but Hammer and I wouldn't leave. We thought you were dead… What happened?"

"I don't really know," Sparrow said slowly. "But I think Reaver's in trouble." Reaver looked startled as Eileen's voice echoed through the chamber, shocking everyone.

_Justice is nigh, my fellows. _She appeared, cold and dripping, her pale, almost bluish face cold and emotionless. _The time has come._

"I thought you loved him," Sparrow said desperately, recalling her happy song. Her emotionless wall crumbled slightly as she looked at Reaver, who was staring at her with a face full of battling emotion. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

_So did I._


End file.
